


where the spirit meets the bones

by booksandchocolatecake



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Turned Into a Ghost, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandchocolatecake/pseuds/booksandchocolatecake
Summary: Wylan has been hiding the fact he’s a ghost since he  met the others. The night before the auction, Jesper makes a move, and Wylan has to decide whether to finally tell him the truth.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	where the spirit meets the bones

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Suicidal thoughts, drowning, death.
> 
> Title from Ivy by Taylor Swift.

The chandelier glimmered, mid-afternoon light reflecting from the glass door. The immaculately painted white railing surrounding the balcony didn’t stop Wylan wondering what would happen if he jumped. 

He gazed at the tall buildings through the glass that separated the hotel room and the grey sky. The street below was as busy as ever, noise from the carriages and the horses pulling them reaching even the highest room in the Geldrenner Hotel. Some invisible force held Wylan back, kept a hold on his hand to prevent him from opening the door. In his head, that force felt a lot like Jesper.

What would happen if he took the fall? If he finally worked up the courage to let go? Would he even die? Would it matter in the first place, if he’d never been living at all? Wylan felt alive - he wanted to be alive, more than anything - but as his father had taught him, wishing was never enough. Praying every night that he would be enough for his father hadn’t given him the ability to read, or done anything to prevent… what happened later.

Before Wylan could consider the idea any further, the door to the hotel room creaked open. 

The others had been gone for a few hours, Inej, Nina, Matthias and Kaz putting the final pieces of the plan in place, whilst Jesper had already disappeared long before Wylan left his room late in the morning. He didn’t like to think where the sharpshooter had gone.

Wylan saw Jesper enter the room with a bounce in his step, admiring the gilded gold wallpaper and paintings decorating the walls as if seeing them for the first time. It must have been a rare good day at the gambling halls.

Jesper took his guns from his belt and spun them by their handles, a grin stretching across his face. In his triumph, he seemed to have forgotten their likely demise tomorrow, at least for now. He waved to Wylan and put a hand on his shoulder, before quickly snatching it away.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Jesper let out a string of loud curses and blew hot air onto his hands. “Shit, Merchling, you’re freezing.”

Wylan swallowed and tried to avoid making eye contact with Jesper. Every time someone commented on his temperature it felt like a punch to his gut.

“I- I’m fine. I just forgot to put on the fire.”

“It’s not that cold.” said Jesper. He glanced at the fireplace in the centre of the room. “The fire is on, Merchling.”

Wylan froze. “I just- I think I need to put on more layers.” he stuttered. “I guess I don’t have many sweaters. You know, because my father k… tried to kill me.”

Jesper’s expression softened. “We’ve got plenty of time until Kaz gets back. We could buy you some new sweaters?” Jesper raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Or something you’d look even cuter in.”

Wylan blushed bright pink and tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding in his stomach. 

“I think we should save it until tomorrow. When the whole city isn’t looking for us. You know, when we’re all alive.” Wylan’s words began to stumble into each other. “Because the plan will definitely work. And we’ll all be alive. Because we’re all alive. Right now. Like you’d expect.”

The prospect of using the balcony to test if it was possible for him to die was looking a lot brighter to Wylan.

Jesper gave Wylan a strange look but let it go and perched at the end of his father’s king size bed. Wylan sat next to him, and the room was filled with silence. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You were awake until we went to bed at twelve, and I thought I heard you pacing at four when I got up to use the bathroom, and again when me and Kaz headed out at seven.”

Wylan forced down his fear at Jesper’s worry. He needed to be quieter or someone would find him out. Not that there was anything to conclude from that beyond Wylan being an insomniac, but the combination of all the strange things about Wylan… he couldn’t risk it.

“I’m fine.” he said. “Just nervous about the plan. It’s hard to process that I might be dead tomorrow.” Wylan nearly laughed at the irony. “Don’t worry about me.”

Jesper looked concerned, but didn’t push the issue. He put his hand on top of Wylan’s and tried to hide his grimace at the sudden cold. Wylan noticed anyway.

In truth, Wylan had found it physically impossible to sleep. No matter how long he closed his eyes, how hard he squeezed them tight and tried to think peaceful thoughts, he always found himself getting up and drawing or working on his plans for the bombs. It was as if he no longer had any energy to be replenished every night.

Wylan couldn’t stand to sit here a second longer. He adored everything about Jesper, but he couldn’t endure being constantly reminded that he shouldn’t be here. That everything about his presence was scientifically impossible. How could his fantasies, the forbidden ones that involved being with Jesper in the way that went beyond friendship and leaving this godforsaken city forever, be possible when the sharpshooter couldn’t even bear the touch of Wylan’s hand?

“I’m sorry, Jesper, I- I need to use the bathroom.”

Jesper laughed. “There’s no need to apologise for that.”

“Sorry.” Wylan murmured, blushing furiously, and ran out of the room.

***

Two months - or a lifetime - earlier, Wylan walked around Fifth Harbour shakily. He swallowed, trying desperately to hold back the tears building up in the back of his throat. He shivered. His soaking clothes only worsened the biting cold of Ketterdam in winter. His father hadn’t even made sure he had warm pants. 

Wylan shook himself. Of course he hadn’t. His father hadn’t even expected him to be alive right now.  
How he’d managed to escape the canal and wake up on the side of the road was beyond him. There was a gap in his memory after the men threw him in the water. He only knew that it had to be his father’s doing.

It had taken a while to accept, but after wandering the Barrel aimlessly for hours, Wylan had lost all hope. No one was coming for him. He would die right here, without having ever truly lived. Jan Van Eck’s defective, dead son. It had a ring to it.

Wylan felt his eyes blur, and blinked the tears away. He couldn’t do this right now. He had to find shelter, food. Any resemblance of the life he had until hours ago.

The dirt on the street merged with the canal water from his dripping trousers to create a brown slush under his feet that followed wherever he went. People lay in every corner or nook, and it was unclear if they were asleep or dead. Words on the signs scattered in front of Wylan’s eyes. He wasn’t aware when he looked at a building if he was considering entering an inn or a brothel. Considering everything about his current appearance, he wasn’t prepared to risk it being the latter.

He finally worked up the courage to approach a man in a wooden stall. From what Wylan could see, he was selling crates of a strange smelling grey substance that he had no wish to investigate further.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I-” Wylan’s cheeks instantly warmed. 

“Could you tell me where the nearest inn is?”

The man didn’t react. Humiliation festered in the pit of Wylan’s stomach.

“Please tell me.” The man continued to ignore Wylan. “I’ll pay you!” he exclaimed. “I’m very rich, you see, my father is a mercher, I can get you money, I can-”

A man in a tattered coat approached the stall. He began to barter with the seller for three crates, without stopping to acknowledge Wylan beside him.

Wylan spluttered and blushed at the mens’ lack of manners. How could they ignore him when he was right in front of them, clearly in need of help? These weren’t the rules he’d been taught by his tutors. Nothing made sense anymore.

Wylan stepped in front of the man, waving his arms and shouting, and he continued to barter as if nothing had happened. It hit Wylan at once.

“They can’t see me.” he whispered. Not one of the passersby even glanced at him. “No one can see me.”

His breath coming in gasps, Wylan moved closer to the stall and brought his hand forward to pick up a crate. He felt a chill run down his spine. His hand passed straight through. 

Wylan’s head span wildly. He ran down the street, black spots clouding his vision. He needed to get out of here. Everything needed to stop. Wylan was waylaid by a woman dragging a wooden cart that emitted a horrid stench that only made him more woozy. The woman pushed past him, exposing the contents of the cart. Wylan froze.

On top of the cart, lying among a pile of lifeless forms, was Wylan’s soaking wet dead body.

***

Wylan took in a deep breath, staring at the reflectionless mirror, and became visible once again. Sometimes, it took every ounce of his energy to not lose his grip on himself. Kaz had commented before on how Wylan was blurry at the edges, like an unfinished painting or the vision of a man about to faint. He touched the mirror, and this time, his hand settled on the cool glass.

Wylan stepped outside of the luxurious bathroom. The balcony door was wide open, and Jesper was standing on the balcony, watching colourful fireworks explode in the sky. Wylan joined him, forcing his gaze from the long drop. 

“Feeling better?” asked Jesper.

Wylan faked a smile. “I just needed the bathroom.”

“Sure you did.”

They watched the bright lights in silence, listening to the distant explosions.

“Do you think you could do fireworks? You know, for the Dregs, when this is all over.”

“I guess so.” said Wylan. “It’s the same concept as bombs, with a few necessary adjustments of course, but the basic idea is...” Wylan trailed off when he realised Jesper was staring at him.

Jesper smirked and leant back against the balcony railing. “You’re cute when you’re nerdy.”

As Jesper had predicted, Wylan’s face turned red.

“It’s just simple chemistry, I mean-”

“Like us.”

“... What?” stuttered Wylan.

Jesper grinned. “Chemistry.”

Wylan opened his mouth to let out a flirty response, but closed it before the words could spill out. Whatever miracle or curse had brought him here would surely wear off soon. He would only hurt Jesper in the end.

Jesper put his hand on Wylan’s arm. Wylan was wearing a cardigan over his sweater now, and it clearly helped repress the cold his body emitted, because he didn’t pull away.

“Talk to me, Merchling.”

Wylan hadn’t even realised his expression had turned to sadness as Jesper waited for his answer.

“I’m fine, Jesper. I swear.”

“I just-” Jesper met eyes with Wylan and gathered himself. “I don’t want to pressure you, Wylan. I know how hard all this has been for you, and you’ve probably never… been in a relationship before but I…”

Jesper broke off and glanced away. Wylan put his other hand on Jesper’s arm.

“Please. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so determined not to kiss me.” Wylan swallowed and Jesper’s eyes widened in horror. “Is it me? Did I do something? I promise, Merchling, I’ll be better, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll-”

“It’s not you.” murmured Wylan.

Jesper drew in a sharp breath. Jesper and Wylan stood in silence, gazing into the other’s eyes. The sound of exploding fireworks from far away was drowned out by the pounding of Wylan’s heart in his ears. 

Before Wylan could realise what was happening, Jesper had put his arm around his waist and pulled him closer and his mouth was on Jesper’s and they were kissing, they were actually kissing, and their roaming lips were pressing against each other and Jesper had pushed Wylan against a wall and he’d never felt anything like it and-

Ghenzen, Wylan was kissing Jesper.

This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe if Wylan had met Jesper before he died, but it was all maybes and what-ifs and could-have-beens, and his was real life, and this wasn’t what Wylan had planned and it couldn’t be happening.

Wylan stopped abruptly, and Jesper pulled away to look at him. He tucked a strand of Wylan’s hair behind his ear. “Is this okay, Merchling?”

Wylan pushed Jesper from the embrace, his breath coming in gasps. Jesper stumbled back, and Wylan darted into the hotel room. Jesper ran after him, his face frozen in a mask of shock.

“Wylan, stop, please!” shouted Jesper. “What happened? I didn’t mean to upset you, please, tell me what’s wrong!”

Wylan’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Jesper. I can’t do this.”

Jesper’s face fell. “Oh. Oh. I’m just- I- Uh- That’s… that’s ok.” he stuttered. Wylan had never seen the sharpshooter look so beaten. “I think I’ll… I’m going to go now.”

Wylan watched Jesper turn his back and slowly turn the handle on the hotel room door. The pit in his stomach grew until it overwhelmed him and he suddenly couldn’t bear to let Jesper leave.

“I’m dead, okay?” exclaimed Wylan. Tears streamed freely down Wylan’s cheeks as he shouted.

Jesper turned back and stared at Wylan. He was frozen. 

“I’m dead! I’m a ghost! That’s why we can’t be together! It’s not you, Jesper, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I just want to kiss you again and see you every day for the rest of my life but I’ve been dead the entire fucking time!”

Jesper approached Wylan shakily. “You’re… you’re a ghost?”

Wylan nodded, his previous confidence snatched as the weight of his words sank in.

Jesper drew in a deep breath and cupped Wylan’s chin in his hands. “I don’t care.”

“... What?” Wylan whispered, too afraid to let himself hope. His voice shook.

“I don’t care.” repeated Jesper, more confident this time. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a ghost or a vampire or a fucking fairy. I want to be with you because you’re Wylan Van Eck and you’re the most incredible boy I’ve ever met.”

Wylan stared. He didn’t dare to speak, in case the spell was broken.

“So, yeah. Whatever is happening with you, I want to help. I want us to go through it together. Even if that problem is that you’re dead.”

Wylan heard his blood rush in his ears. He stared at the boy in front of him, the beautiful, brave, reckless, stunning boy, and decided to let his instincts take control. He kissed Jesper. This time, it wasn’t rushed. It was slow and simple and romantic, and, to Wylan, it was everything. 

When they broke apart, Jesper rested his forehead against Wylan’s. They were so close Wylan could hear Jesper’s breathing, and feel the rise and fall of his chest. Jesper took Wylan’s hand and squeezed it.

“Together?” whispered Wylan.

“Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed please leave kudos and a comment, it means so much to me to hear what people think!


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